


Stalker

by ivartheheathen



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Dubious Consent, F/M, Invasion of Privacy, Masturbation, Stalking, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivartheheathen/pseuds/ivartheheathen
Summary: Ivar’s brothers use to tell him that he needs a hobby. But he does have a hobby, his favorite activity: to watch you.





	1. Chapter 1

Ivar’s brothers use to tell him that he needs a hobby. But he does have a hobby, his favorite activity: to watch you.

 

He knows your whole routine, since the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. He knows all the members of your family. All your friends, from childhood, from school, from work. He knows everyone you’ve ever dated and even your one night stands. He knows your favorite restaurants, books, food. He knows everything.

 

He likes to take pictures of you, his bedroom’s walls are filled with layers of them. Every night he lies down on his bed and spend hours looking at you. His favorite muse, so innocent, so unaware of his hungry eyes.

 

He loves the idea of breathing your scent as he stalks you down the streets, inhaling the air you leave beahind. Once, he even had the courage to come closer enough to feel your perfume, then rushed to buy the fragrance and spray on his pillows, so he could pretend you were there, lying with him.

 

Every tuesday morning he puts his sport clothes, his hood hiding his face as he follows you on your usual jog. He wishes you knew what seeing you all sweaty and breathless does to him.

 

He hates parties, but everytime you go to one, he goes too. In the corner, he watches you dance, his eyes glued on you, roaming all over your curves, following every move you make. His blood boils every time a man flirts with you. He knows they can’t love you or please you the way he could, they won’t cherish and worship your body the way he craves to. 

 

His palms tingle to touch you, feel the soft and warm skin on every inch of your body. His favorite part are your lips, the thought of them rosy and swollen, kissing down his torso and wrapping around his cock, gives him the most intense orgarsms.

 

But it’s not enough. He longs for more, he aches for more. He hates you for making him feel this way and, at the same time, there is nothing he wants more than you. You are everything he dreams of, everything he wants to touch. You are his obsession.

 

You are his prey.

 

* * *

 

 

Your perfume invades his senses in the moment he pushes the curtain aside and steps inside the room. He is used with the scent, but is different this time.

 

Ivar found out that you are a heavy sleeper after your friends posted a prank video on the internet. He also knew that you keep your bedroom’s window open, so all he would have to do was to climb the emergency stairs. He knew it was the perfect moment when he saw you stumbling out of the night club, the alcohol in your blood would make you black out completly.

 

And he has his confirmation when he finds your body lying on the bed. He takes a moment to observe you, his cock twitching inside his pants as he notices that you are only wearing a tank top and a pantie, your legs interwined with the white sheet and your hair spreaded over the pillow as your chest moves up and down in a regular breathing. 

 

His hands are scratching to touch you, so he shifts his attention to prevent him from blowing things up so soon. He walks silently, dragging his fingertips softly over your belongings, his hearing focused on your breath. Then he picks the camera that is hanging on his neck to record different angles of the room, and his attention goes back to you as he points the camera at your direction.

 

After several pictures of your sleeping figure, he drops the camera again. There is an armchair leaning against the wall, right in front of the bed, only a few feet away. He sits down, grabs the black blazer that is resting on the armrest and brings it closer to his face. He inhales deeply, having to hold back the moan that threatens to reverberate in his chest when he feels your scent. Not only your perfume, but your sweat, a little bit of your shampoo. A scent that is unique, only yours.

 

He puts the blazer back down and rests his body on the backrest, eyes roaming all over your body, thinking of how the pale moonlight that is glowing on you makes you look like a goddess . You move on the bed and the sheet slips,  showing more of your skin. Ivar fights to keep his gasps silent as his hands fly to his trousers.

 

He caresses himself through the jeans, feeling how hard he already are, a deep sigh escapes his parted lips when he squeezes. He slowly unbutton his pants, biting his lower lip as he feels the zipper dragging down over his erection. When he has space enough, he buries his hand under his boxers and pull his member out. It stands high and hard, the head reddened, glowing with precum as the vein that snakes up his shaft throb violently.

 

His hand is warm when he wraps it around his own cock, but it’s not what he imagines as he presses it softly. His head hits the wall behind him with a hollow thump, but his eyes never leaves you. His teeth sink in his bottom lip as his hand starts to slid up and down. He tries to be silent, but it is impossible to hold back the small hisses that escapes between his teeth as he increases the speed.

 

Watching you is better than just imagine you. The pleasure is so much more intense now that he is surrounded by the smell of you, knowing that everything he touches was and will be touched by you, having you unconscious and uncovered only a few feet away.

 

Part of him wants you to wake up. His imagination flies to a scenario where, after the initial shock, you would climb out of the bed and go to him on all fours, eyes locked with his, burning with lust. When you finally reached him, your hands would slowly creep up his legs and push them apart, and his knees depart with the thought. He tries to imagine how it would feel to have your mouth around him, what would be the sensation of your tongue licking all the extension of his shaft and your lips sucking his sensitive skin. But he can’t, not when reality are so close to him, and a desperate sob leaves his mouth.

 

The part of him that remains reasonable knows that the only reaction he will receive if you wake up is a scream of horror, so he forces himself to be silent, because this is not how he wants to hear you scream.

 

His cock twitches almost painfully under his palm, the head in a purplish coloration, releasing so much liquid that his hand slides easily, making small wet sounds. Then your body shifts on the bed, your chest moving as a deep sigh leaves your mouth. He can hear a trace of your voice as the sigh becomes a low mewl. It’s like you can feel him, and your body is unconsciously reacting to the scene. And this is all he needs.

 

He only have time to cup the head with his other hand before his seed spills over his own palm as his whole body shakes in a powerful orgasm. He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop his mouth from falling ajar and release the loud moan that grows on the bottom of his throat.

 

He lies motionless for a while, body numb from the intensity of his release, trying to catch his breath as he watches you, so peaceful, so unaware of what just happened. He knows he must leave soon. But he also knows that, now that he had a taste from up close, he won’t be able to stop.

 


	2. Last First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one of Ivar’s visits to your apartment, you arrive with a guy. The man blacks out on your sofa, so Ivar takes his chance.

Ivar curses under his breath when sounds coming from the door echoes through the living room. He barely has time to hide behind the heavy curtains before it bangs open, your laugher filling the room as you trip your way inside your apartment. 

Silently, he scolds himself for being so sloppy. Visiting your place became a habit, and he might have got too comfortable with the fact the he was never caught. 

Through the thick fabric, he sees a second silhouette following you inside. It is bigger than you, giggling hoarsely and reaching out to touch you as you close the door with unnecessary force. Ivar promptly reads the situation and his blood boils inside his veins. His hands tremble as he closes them into fists to keep himself from jumping out of his spot and kicking the man out so he can show you how you deserve to be fucked.

Instead, he watches as you two head to your bedroom with unstable steps, feeling disgusted by the sounds of giggles and clumsy kisses. 

When the door closes, Ivar releases the breath he didn't even know he was holding, having an immediate need of leaving as fast as he can. He couldn't stand to stay and watch you allow another man to touch your body the way he can only dream of.

Just when he is ready to come out, the bedroom's door is opened. He can tell is the man who walks out. With loud steps, he stumbles on the furniture on his way before throwing himself on the sofa. Ivar holds his breath, it is faced to the curtain he is hiding behind, a sudden move and he will be discovered.

The man searches for something on the center table, making a mess of the souvenirs you always keep perfectly organized. Ivar's teeth grit when he takes something out of a small box. He knows exactly what it is.

Ivar presses his eyes shut when he hears the sound of plastic being ripped followed by a zipper being opened. His jaw is clenched, so hard it hurts. All he wants is to leave, lock himself inside his bedroom and dream of a universe where you are his and only his. Suddenly, a low snoring reaches his ears. He opens his eyes again, waiting for the figure in front of him to move, but it doesn't.

He slowly pushes the curtain aside, finding the man passed out. Ivar takes a experimental step, relaxing when the man keeps motionless. He begins to slowly make his way to the door, but something in the way caughts his eyes.

There is a sleep mask on the table. His fingers are already acquainted to the silky material, he knows it smells like you. His heartbeat races to the thoughts that floods his mind. They are too risky, but to exciting to ignore. It might be the only chance he will ever have to feel you, and he won't lose it.

With a determinated grin, he grabs the mask, looking one last time at the fainted man as he takes off his shoes. 

His next steps are silent, yet eager. His thumb caresses the soft material in his hand as he walks like he is being pulled to you, stopping by the door to make sure you are not looking. Through a small breach, he can see you, with your back turned to him, seeming to be having a problem with the buttons of your blouse.

He opens the door just the enough to walk inside the bedroom, closing the space between you two with caution. He can see your body tense when he starts to descend the mask on your face. You turn your head to the side, but Ivar is faster, placing the mask over your eyes and covering your sigh before you can take a look of his face.

"Seriously?" You mutter. Ivar removes your hands from the blouse and replaces with his own, sinking his nose in your hair as he slowly opens it.

He breathes in your scent. It is disguised under the smell of cigarette, but it is still there. He can recognize it anywhere since it has become as familiar as his own.

You shiver when the breeze coming from the open window hits you, and it only gets stronger when his fingers brush your skin, tugging the blouse down your arms. You startle when cold hands caress your stomach, you don't remember these hands to be this cold, but you come to enjoy it as it only makes you more sensitive to his touch. The hands creep up, closing around your breasts and giving them a firm squeeze through your bra.

Ivar turns you around, your face closer than it have ever been from his. The tips of fingers play with your lips, he desperately wants to kiss you, but he knows that, if he does, he won't be able to hold himself.

No, he needs to take his time, focus on your pleasure and make sure that you are ruined for any other man.

He softly pushes you until you are sat on the bed, petting the top of your head. To any outsider, his actions might seem gentle, filled with love even, but the cold thrill inside your belly tells you they are calculated, carried with some dark mystery that makes your stomach flip in antecipation.

"Can I take that off now?" You ask, feeling a strange need of looking at him. 

He holds your chin, shaking your head slowly to the sides. Your head spins due the alcohol in your sistem, but you realize it is an answer to your own question. His lack of words are scary and exciting at the same time.

You let your body fall back, sliding up until the back of your head are resting on the pillow. On the edge of the bed, Ivar removes his belt. You feel the mattress sink down when he climbs up, one knee on each side of you.

Although he would like to have your hands on him, pulling his hair and scratching his back, he can't risk you noticing he is not the man you brought home, so he grabs both your wrists, holding them above your head and tying them together on the headboard.

You are about to protest when you feel his fingers sliding down your arms, leaving goosebumps wherever they pass. He then draws the structure of your face, so softly it feels like a feather. Yet, it is carried with _something_ , something you have never felt with any man, something that makes you want to give him _everything_.

Too soon, the warmth of his body on top of yours is gone. Ivar walks to the door, closing it and turning the key. You can feel him moving aroung before he turns the radio on, low enough to not wake up the man in your living room, but loud enough to confuse you in case he lets anything escape from his mouth.

His eyes never leave you as he removes his shirt and pants, watching you at his disposal and mercy as he had dreamed of so many times before. Ivar is almost afraid of doing some blunt move and end up watching this image shattering before his eyes, only to find himself in the dark and emptyness of his bedroom.

But when he is back on the bed, he knows it is real. Your skin on his works as an anchor, keeping him firmly stuck to this reality and stopping his mind from wandering through the worse scenarios.

You feel soft lips on your forehead, then on your cheeks, jaw and, finally, on your mouth. At first, it is just a soft touch, but when your lips begin to move, Ivar can't hold a moan. It resounds on your chest, sending waves of electricity through your whole body. His taste invades your mouth along with his tongue and this time it is you who wants to moan. He doesn't taste like alcohol anymore, it feels like you are kissing him for the first time although, for you, it isn't.

When both of you are out of air, he moves to your neck. You roll your head to give him space, feeling more drunk now than you had felt the whole night.

His mouth leaves a hot trail as he kisses down your chest, stopping to open your bra and tug it up your arms until it is tangled around your wrists. You instantly arch your back when his mouth closes around your nipple, sucking and scratching lightly with his teeth as he kneads the other in his hand. Ivar feasts on your breasts, enjoying your every reaction as he blows cold air on your wet nubs.

Next, Ivar makes sure that his kisses on your stomach are followed with succtions. He wants to mark you, to leave multiple reminders of this night that will last for days. He kisses every inch of you, washing your skin from any trace of the other man's touch. You can't do nothing but breath heavily as he opens your pants, lifting your hips for him to pull it down. He works his mouth on every piece of exposed skin, making you jump when his soft ministrations change to deep sucks.

He redoes all the way up, pushing your tighs apart to settle himself between them. His lips brush your skin when he holds the fabric of your panties between his teeth, pulling with his hand until it rips. You roll your neck, wishing you could have seen this scene. The cloth is damp when Ivar throws it aside, he does not wait one more second before replacing it with his own mouth. Once again, his moan reverberates on your skin and, this time, you follow him. 

Without removing his mouth from you, he throws your legs over his shoulders, his large hands holding your tighs to bring you closer. You bite your bottom lip when he draws a wet stripe along your slit, working the tip of his tongue in circles on your hardened clit. 

Ivar uses his pointer and middle finger to open you for him. You quiver when he blows you, arms desperatedly pulling on the belt to bring his face where you want him. He finally sinks his tongue inside you, using his fingers to massage your bud of nerves.

Ivar fucks you with his tongue as if his life depends on it. You taste better than he imagined and the sounds coming out of you are the sweetest. He knows that nothing and no one will ever compete to this, and he almost feel regret for starting it knowing he will never have it again. 

But his thoughts dissipate like a fog when you cry out for more. Ivar realizes that this is the closest he will ever get from having you, this is the closest you will ever get of loving him. So he decides it doesn't matter if you don't know his name, it doesn't matter what happens tomorrow because, in this moment, you are his. And he will make the best of this last first time.

Complying to your demands, he plunges two fingers inside you, moving his tongue to your clit. Now he can look up at you, watch your face writhing in pleasure. The pleasure _he_ is giving you. Your wrists are red from trying to escape the restraints, your moans louder than the music.

When your back archs, Ivar presses his palm on your stomach to put you back in place, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. He keeps fucking you until you are breathlessly begging for him to stop, your sex too overstimulated.

You let out a relieved sigh when he pulls his fingers out. Ivar brings them to his mouth, sucking your juices with closed eyes. Climbing up your body, he kisses you, sharing your own taste with you. You hum against him, your legs close around his waist to bring him closer and you feel his hard cock through his boxers.

"Take this off." You break the kiss. "Please, I need you to fuck me."

An animalistic growl echoes inside Ivar's chest as he tugs the fabric down only the enough to free his cock. His veins throb, the head glistening with precum. Ivar spreads it across your sex with lazy rubs.

He slides easily into you, stretching your walls until your hips meet. Ivar burries his face on your neck, savouring the feeling of finally being inside you. It feels like breathing after being out of air for a long time.

It takes all his strength to pull out, only to slip back in harder and deeper. He drinks in every moan you give him as he increases the speed of his strokes. The sounds leaving your mouth are a mixture of pleasure and frustration for not being able to touch him. You want to ask him to release you, but all that comes out are strangled noises.

You lift your head, searching for his mouth with a hungry kiss. Ivar returns it, feeling something in his chest warming with the gest. He holds the back of your tigh up with his forearm and you whimper when he hits a sensitive spot repeatedly.

Ivar cannot contain his grunts every time your walls thighten around his cock. He wants to tell you to stop or he won't last, but he can't take the risk of you noticing the different voice, so he just lets you milk him until his seed is spilling deep inside you. He has to hold his shout as his body shakes violently.

"Don't stop." You plead when you realize he has reached his end. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

Ivar forces himself to keep moving, slipping his hand between your bodies to massage your clit. It doesn't take long until you reach your orgasm, your sweaty chest sticking on his as you arch your body.

Ivar wishes he had his camera right now so he could immortalize this moment: you on the peak of your pleasure, higher than any man have ever brought you. But these are images he will keep and repeat in his memory only.

You fall back with a satisfied sigh as Ivar removes himself from inside you. He pushes himself out of his orgarsm's fog and gets up, gathering the clothes from the floor and beginning to put them on.

"Can you untie me now?" Your voice is cracked when you speak.

His eyes wander through your body, watching his seed trickling out of you with a growing feeling of proud. He would give anything to be able to lay beside you, to hold you against him and watch you sleep only to wake up the next morning and repeat it all over again.

But he is thankful, though. At least now he will have something to remember, not only fantasize. He finally found out how it feels to be yours, even if only for one night.

With a sad smile, he slowly walks back to you, kissing your forehead as he loosens the belt around your wrists only the enough to allow you to untie yourself.

You finally break free, sitting up on the bed and removing the damn mask from your eyes. Looking around the bedroom, you discover you are alone, the door open and the music playing.


End file.
